


Ad Hominem

by Onus_Probandi



Series: Fallacies [1]
Category: NieR: Automata (Video Game)
Genre: AU exploration, Angst, But sex, F/M, Happy Ending?, Multi, Psychological Trauma, and sex, like...not a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-10-15 07:35:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10552528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onus_Probandi/pseuds/Onus_Probandi
Summary: The return of Gestalt leads to its own set of challenges. (The first fallacy) (On haitus until December)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SomebodyLost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomebodyLost/gifts).



_**({Ad Hominem})** _

* * *

  **The** sight of so much pure white for the first time in three-fourths of a century is enough to give him pause, an involuntary impulse flipping the trigger deep with in his memory unit. Memories flood him unbidden, memories of unholy crucifixion at the hands of a humanoid machine, of the Tower that rose from the earth, a burning flare of mental anguish that ate away at him every step he took closer to the death he so craved, memories of a castle in the sky, its white walls hiding secrets that damned them all, memories of a sword, gleaming, brilliant white, jammed to the hilt in his chest as he couldn’t even let out a scream of pain, just a strained gurgle.

It’s near unnoticeable, but…

He _tremors_. His bare hands shake over the neatly folded clothing, his pulse rate climbing with each beat of his artificial heart, which was less romantic of a notion as a “heart” and more of a glorified pump system.

_Calm down…_ He shakes his head and grasps his right wrist with his left hand, holding it steady. I _t’s okay._

Taking a long swallow, he manages to finally touch the garments, ghosting his fingers over the Resistance handy work.

They truly had done so much for him, first by allowing himself and 2B to remain with them even after revealing that YoRHa and what little they had to fight for was all a fabrication to keep them placated, and then by doing this…

They owed the Resistance their lives. Truly, without them, they would have long perished alone in the grand scheme of things.

His fingers massaged the embroidery of the garment as he carefully dressed. They had managed to capture it down to the slightest detail, even down to the slight curvature in the stitching. He expected no less from an android, but he mostly reserved this kind of skill for practical purposes, such as repairing a tent or patching the frayed fabric of someone’s work pants. According to the records, humans wore these kinds of garments only once and wearing them now, he could see why.

He hadn’t worn his YoRHa uniform for quite some time, the very thought sending him into a panic he couldn’t calm despite the soothing words from 2B or his Pod. Sometimes, he would simply bore his eyes into the crumbling concrete walls of their room, lost in memories of anguish and anger.

But this uniform was different. Instead of the stoic black of the YoRHa, he was clad head to toe in the soft, creamy white of marriage. He flexed his fingers, testing the new leather of the gloves. They fit well, almost as well as he remembers his own, which are buried in the deepest part of a box he keeps underneath his bed.

He’s not shaking anymore, he notices as he ties the blindfold over his eyes. He’s forgotten how it used to feel, having abandoned that practice with her years ago, but the symbolism of this moment doesn’t belong to them; it belongs to cultures long since dead and forgotten, relics of the past they deemed worth reviving. At the very least, they wanted something that was uniquely _theirs_ and theirs alone.

•••

She studies the flowers and knows that the voice of a chipper and chatty Operator will soon follow as it is dragged, kicking and screaming, from her memories.

It’s painful, to think about 6O and YoRHa even so long into the past they were. Despite her programming, she still has moments where she believed that 6O was calling her for another one-sided chat, only to remember her death in graphic detail.

The stems of the flowers have been bound together with repurposed cables, the blossoms carefully arranged in the bouquet of hydrangeas, lilies and other flowers scavenged from the hillsides. The voluminous flowers weren’t her idea or to her taste, but 9S had liked them. As a compromise between them saw the inclusion of scattered Lunar Tears, a gift from the rolling shop himself.

He also supplied the veil that currently rests atop her head, a light fabric she didn’t know the name of flowing past her shoulders and down her back. She wasn’t sure why she needed to cover her face — the meaning of this tradition was lost on her — but Emil seemed to have a well of old world knowledge he could dig into despite the fractures in his memories.

She stood, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Old yet new collided to create a dress that made a strange amalgamation of sadness, fury and joy rise in her. Following the pattern of YoRHa standard dresses, this fit well against her body, feeling as natural to wear as a second skin. However, unlike the YoRHa issued clothing, these were white with soft gold embroidery; clearly, these were not made for war, but as the universal sign for surrender, for peace.

In her fingers, she clutched her visor, this too white and gold. It was non-functional, more for aesthetics and private symbolism than anything. This was the last piece holding them back and once this was done, they would leave YoRHa behind and begin again.

The thought of the future, a future with _Nines_ , spurred her to action. She gently brushed the veil to the side and tied the blindfold over her eyes.

•••

He was blind to their presence, but he knew exactly who they were just based off of the sounds they made. The Resistance took up much of the space with their mismatched voices rising above each other as they spoke, filling the empty space with their chatter. He picks out the excited tone of 4S, his fellow Scanner. He’s recording the entire process to study later on, focusing on each new experience for about a second before whipping around to record something else. But one voice in particular stood out, her voice clearly hesitant and unsure if she should even be here due to her history with the pair.

_A2_ …so she had decided to accept the invitation after all… He was both happy and a bit nervous that she had decided to come. They’ve tried to mend the best they could, but even now, a part of him still hates her, still wants to hunt her down.

9S shifts from foot to foot out of nervous habit, anxiety building in him for an unknown reason and his Pod notices right away.

"Pulse rate palpitations detected in unit 9S,” it never really did lose that unsettling monotone, never quite finding the emotional range that the androids possessed. “Perhaps you should breathe.”

His laugh comes out shaky and quiet, tinkling like shards of broken glass in a dryer. He doesn’t know why the sudden outburst happens, but it does in high-stress moments like this and he can’t stop it. He’s glad that they’re too busy talking to hear or notice his brief moment of madness because he doesn’t want to explain the unexplainable processes in his addled brain.

“I’ll remember that,” he says quietly to his Pod, wishing that he could actually _see_ her instead of a dark silhouette against the white of the blindfold. But he doesn’t want to look yet, lest he catch a glimpse of 2B before the proper time.

They’ve been separated for more than makes him comfortable and it’s eating at him. In the normal span of a day, he’s never more than shouting distance away from her, most times closely clutching her hand in his.

Maybe he’s clingy. Maybe they both are.

The voices fall silent one by one, a sort of reverent and hushed awe hanging in the air where noise once was. He turns his head before remembering that he can’t see what they do, but now he can hear her footsteps against the concrete.

The urge to look is _strong_. He wants to see her, to feel what they feel and he wonders if she has the same thoughts about seeing him.

She’s unsure in her steps but follows the path led by her Pod. Sometimes, she sways to the right but a simple correction given by her support and she is centered again.

He’s waiting for her just thirty steps ahead, standing off to the left, probably in the same anxious throes as herself. They’re blind, the moment when they meet will be the first time they see each other and cast away the blindfolds forever. It’s a form of symbolic closure, something only they will understand and therefore the perfect inclusion to this ceremony.

Perhaps it’s only a symbol and they never will escape these memoirs of their past. Perhaps closure is something they don’t deserve. Perhaps they don’t deserve love or happiness or each other.

But…she’s reached him now and stands across from him, her hands tightening around the flowers. Carefully, she reaches up with one hand and mimics the gesture of his silhouette, removing the fabric from around her eyes.

They deserve this, and in that moment when their eyes finally meet, they deserve each other.

•••

It’s a celebratory occasion, and A2 has never been much for celebration. It unnerves her, sets her teeth on edge.

She’s not even sure she should be here, basking in their happiness, their joy, because she knows she’s always holding them back. She’s that dark spot on their white clothing, a stain too stubborn to be scrubbed away. She’s the personification of their nightmares, the ones she knows they have, the ones where she is the murderer of his only reason for living. 2B and herself have already come to terms with the fact that 9S will never fully accept her existence, so when she received the invitation she was wondering if it was a mistake or a shill.

Still, she had dragged herself here, reconsidering it halfway through her journey.

The white-clad pair seemed frozen in place as they finally got to look at each other, eyes roaming over their partner. The lovestruck idiots…if they ever thought they were being discreet, they seriously had some problems.

Her Pod takes the flowers from her, floating with the bouquet obscuring much of the light grey rectangle.

A2 is lost in the whole process, this ceremony having been dragged out of obscurity and altered slightly to more fit an android couple. Certain things changed.

They didn’t need to eat so why would they create a…“cake” was it? Most of these old partnering ceremonies included worship to some sort of God, a thing they didn’t believe in. Anemone tried her best to fill in the blanks but they all knew that _something_ was missing from this moment. It felt incomplete and thus something they, the androids, couldn’t fully adopt.

Perhaps in a few years, as this practice became more common among the lovebirds, they would discover what was missing.

The strange thing was, 9S and 2B didn’t seem to _care_. Perhaps that what was missing. A2 couldn’t understand the point of this process, but for some reason it mattered so much to _them_. And, she guessed, maybe that was the point. It didn’t matter if she or anyone in the Resistance understood. At the end, it was about them and what stupid shit they wanted.

Huh, maybe that was the point.

9S trembled as he took 2B’s hands, slowly interlocking their fingers together. They promised each other eternity, something as androids they could easily give to each other (but she chose to not point that out), promised each other faith and honesty. It was the sentimental bullcrap that she had to put up with when she was quasi-traveling with them, but she never commented on it outside of sitting on the outskirts of camp whenever they were being, ehem, _overly affectionate_. She supposed they deserved it; however, and it never really bothered her outside of leaving a strong feeling of pain in her chest.

The more she watched them, the more that idea was cemented: the idea that they deserved some peace and to be these lovestruck fools who didn’t have to murder each other for the sake of a false mission with no goal other than morale. For the greater good, their torment mattering nothing to their creators. They all deserved a moment to be obnoxious with their happiness. 

Applause startled her out of her thoughts and, hurriedly, she brought her hands together, hoping no one noticed her late start. 

•••

Anemone was perhaps the only person she felt _comfortable_ around, considering their history together and the cool-headed demeanor of the Resistance leader. “I don’t really _get_  this whole celebration.“ A2 muttered to the darker-skinned android as they leaned against the wall.

“They don’t either,” Anemone chuckled softly as her eyes trailed over to the white pair as they swayed awkwardly to soft music Emil played over his speaker. When A2 had approached him, he seemed excited about the whole thing (of course his face didn’t show it but his voice dripped with energy) and zoomed off to…somewhere before she could prod further.

A2 raised an eyebrow, following her gaze. “So what’s the point?” 9S seemed to be muttering something into 2B’s ear, which left her face unreadable as she nodded stiffly. “I know we don’t have to live by structure anymore but…”

Anemone ran her nails down the back of her opposite arm. She was lost in her processes, mulling over her words carefully before parting her lips and saying softly, “it may well be the last time these two experience anything.” When A2 visibly recoiled, Anemone continued, “I forgot you’ve been disconnected from the Resistance server for a while. But…they offered to be the test subjects for the Gestalt process.” 

A2 bit the inside of her cheek at the mere mention of the selfsame project that single-handedly ended the human race. “…you guys are really trying _that_ , huh?” She shook her head. “I can’t say I can see it working.”

Anemone’s voice was laced with passion. “There’s been success in smaller, less complex subjects. We’ve exhausted those trials and it’s only natural that we advance to the next step.” She applauded with the group as the song came to an end, 9S and 2B unfurling from their tight embrace. “They’ve decided they would help us take that step, but they wanted to take it together.”

“And you’re just gonna _let them?_ ”

“I can tell you; I tried to convince them otherwise. Nothing I could say could sway them.”

The two were joined on the floor by others who wanted to join in the “dancing” or whatever they wanted to call it. “So…what’s going to happen to them?”

Anemone sighed, running a hand through her bangs. “In all honesty, I have no idea. We’re tampering with a Black Box. We’ve had success with deactivated models, but…” She trailed off. Clearly, she was just as hesitant as A2 but more set in her conviction. “We have to try.”

"Last time I checked, there’s no more ‘have to.’” A2 crossed her arms and shifted on her feet. 

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“It’s a stupid choice.”

Anemone smiled. “But we have the freedom to make those stupid choices, don’t we?”

•••

He lay to her right, running his thumb over her hand as he studied the sensation one last time. Muscle fibers and circuitry rested underneath the surface of soft artificial skin, her carbonate skeleton dense and reinforced yet flexible. Yet it felt absolutely _natural_ to him. 

Would…would that change in a human body? Would it no longer _feel_ the same? Would he never be comforted by her touch, but rather disgusted by the sensation so alien? Doubt swirled in his mind, leaving him with a pit deep in his heart.

Fear. It was crawling it’s way up again, threatening to derail everything they had worked for and promised each other. Their eternity was in this moment and…he was so unsure if life would be awaiting him at the end…

Her voice was low in volume, soft in pitch and gentle in tone, but she was demanding he look at her.

“Nines.” He slowly lifts his head to meet her eyes. She takes his other hand, trailing her fingers along.

Her voice is…minuscule when she says, "I’m scared too.”

In that moment, he knows he’s been selfish. He’s been so trapped in his own fear, his own reservations, his own thoughts that he hasn’t even considered hers.

It’s always been like that: she doesn’t voice her suffering so he simply doesn’t think it exists. Even when they were caught in the dance of life, death and duty, he never once thought of _her_ and her needs because she was _2B_  and she didn’t need anything.

But she’s just as broken and naked as he is, pieces of herself cut off and tossed into the void. She can never be whole, never be without the fear of waking up with him not by her side, never be safe without a weapon nearby, never be herself again because there never was a “ _self_ ” to tear out. They had to create those on their own, formulating love and purpose where there should be none after the losses they incurred.

And yet, here she was, holding his hands and preparing for the unknown with him.

He grasped her hands a little tighter, so afraid of letting go. “I…I love you.”

She smiled softly, and, with great reluctance, pulled their hands apart. “I love you too, Nines.”

"Are you ready?” Jackass asked, her eyes on the Black Boxes, dense cubes of compressed matter and energy and the closest thing to an android heart.

The two nodded and felt the wave of a forced shutdown overtake them. Before he fell asleep, 9S could hear Jackass mutter to herself a reaffirmation: “it’s for science. It’s what they want.”

So it seemed they weren’t the only ones with hesi—

[ _Unit 9S Black Box signal offline.]_

_[Unit 2B Black Box signal offline.]_

_[Death confirmed]_


	2. Chapter 2

**_ ({Ad Hominem})  
Chapter one:  
December_**

* * *

  
**(June)**

He's blind; his vision burning a brilliant white reminding him of times he's stared into the sun — completely by accident of course — and nearly seared his opticals into pools of melted glass.

He closes his eyes again. These memories make no sense in his current state.

**(July)**

He can hear their voices through the….er. Is it glass? What is it? He can hardly focus on one strain of thought as they blitz by in—

**(October)**

_It's cold, it's cold, it's cold, it's fucking **cold.**_

**(November)**

He hears glass breaking followed by a sudden drop in temperature far worse that the one he experienced before.

“Well shit, who–” the voice fades into confused curses and he's aware he's naked and alive, gasping on the concrete ground and struggling to stand, slipping on the fluid underneath him. “Fuck, what now–”

He's...alive? Ha...ha...fuck his lungs are collapsing and his ears hurt because it feels like that woman was screaming at the others in the room and everything burns and he needs to scream but he just _**can't**_

**(December)**

He's stretching out his fingers as he stares above the medicated enclosure, white filtered sunlight trailing lazily from the sky in frozen clumps. The glass seals them in, protecting them from the extreme temperature and wild contagion running rampant on the outside, things they couldn't survive in their current state. Still, from the few sealed windows they have access to, he can tell that it's a strange kind of white beauty that baffles him as it’s supposed to be seasonal, natural in a world that was always changing, always evolving, always supposed to be this way.

It reminds him of _her_ , no doubt.

Why has he missed it before now? Has he thrown his face so hard through the metaphysical glass of his research over the centuries that he's ignored the passage of time?

Popola mentioned something about it when she last came to record his joint movements and eating habits while being slightly to... _intrusive_ with her implement.

“...r..notic…rotations?” She twisted her fingers around each other when he visibly recoiled from the loud, droning screech of her voice and speech modulator. The magenta haired Healer adjusted her voice, searching for the least offensive frequency to match his delicate eardrums and going through about six before landing on one that didn't cause him to clutch his head in pain.

“You never noticed the rotations? Of the planet, I mean,” she added for clarification when he still looked dazed and confused.

“The planet was _moving_?!” He slips into another person’s mentality for a moment, a person who supposedly knew less than one of the head researchers of the November Gestalt project and spent their days never once glancing at the sky. He is atlas, so stuck on carrying the weight of the world that he never bothered to ask about it.

...or bothered to notice why it suddenly became dark or what the hell the others were fussing about.

He was an android; he didn't need a sense of time or a nocturnal cycle so it wouldn't matter any—

He thinks about that sentence for a moment. He _was_. No longer in the present, but deep into the past tense, the past itself, he would never be an android again.

He sits on the bench, only slightly chilled in his contained space and watches the endless spring cracking up between the concrete, a worm inching its way across the grassy space his toes used to occupy before crawling up a near nonexistent flower and dangling upside down from a leaf.

He resists the urge to flick his thumb at it, all the while processing just why he even noticed the grub anyways.

**(December)**

She's lying on her back, her hands gently crossed over her stomach, eyes boring into the unchanging skyline above her. Their rooms haven't been outfitted with much in the form of entertainment or information or hell, anyway for her to catch a glimpse of her partner, which — for some reason — drove her to peeling her nails off with her teeth in nervous habit she never once had before.

She throws herself off of her bench and paces around the room, the solitude inspiring noises from nowhere to mark her descent into madness and. and. And…!

She can't find the words and the frustration she feels in the moment is less than it should be and that frustrates her more because she thought this would be different and not so much like how it's always been and she didn't want...she didn't want to be herself anymore.

She crosses her arms over her chest, seeking protection from the pretty, porcelain doll who no longer was who she was ingrained, forced and twisted into being, but who no longer existed except in face and concept, memory and mind she needed to defeat or…

_Her hands find her neck_

_She's so scared of herself_

_She's still a murderer_

Her hands are weak; her arms are tired, her body hungers periodically and she's in this cage because she's just so...soft. She's never been anything like this, never this. She's been broken, she's been shattered against stone, she's…

She's paced the room four times and her legs and feet feel it, unknown parts of her aching because apparently she had to use them now. She falls on the bench, clasping her hands together and knees touching her elbows in a pose she's become fond of over the years.

Is this what it's like to be human?

It's cold on her back and she curls up into a ball, her knees against her chest, blowing warmth onto her legs.

She falls asleep like this, but it doesn't matter much, she'll wake up in mere moments and chase the darkening sky with her eyes, as if convinced it was a threat.

**(December)**

She stares at the lunch — was that the name of it? It's been weeks and she still doesn't know — neatly prepared on the tray as if it was poisoned, her evil eye on the hunk of greyish meat especially. She had eaten some of it when she had first woken up, and then violently vomited her insides out in the corner of her room. They seemed to be confused as all hell as to why until she was examined and it was discovered that her stomach was minuscule and rejected everything she was given. It was just a thing that would happen until it stretched to accommodate food.

Food she wouldn't _eat_

It's affecting her but she's... _scared_ of it. It's so unnatural to consume it because it could harm her systems—

_You don't **have** systems._

His fingers tapped against hers, drawing her out of her protective shell, despite his touch feeling so wrong to her.

...9S…he was dressed in the same light blue clothing she was, choosing to go barefoot down the small hall separating them from the shared contagion known as their bodies. It's the first time she's seeming him without being blind by the glare of the lab and seeing him though such shitty eyes.

There are marks on his skin that she can feel and she knows they're there but she _just can't find them_ with her eyes and–

He uses his free hand to hook his arm around her back, feeling her shake as she realized that this...this person is hers, he's her 9S. She didn't fall asleep and they didn't take him away.

“Don't panic,” he coos softly, running his fingers around the cup of her ears, “it's okay, 2B.” He can feel her mentality shake as it all hits her now with the force of one of the many Goliath’s they've fought in the past.

She cries and it hurts him so _much._

**(December)**

He's taken to sleeping in her room, in her bed, beside her. She doesn't mind, she needs him there and he does this thing where he puts the blanket over his shoulders and head and waves around in the impression of a ghost that never fails to make her laugh.

He doesn't get it; he's just _pointing_.

They watch the stars, lying on their backs as they try to match them with constellations from before. From the Bunker.

It's trauma, pure and simple but he supposed that it's a beautiful kind of trigger and he can take the limp feeling that overwhelms him and chokes his newborn lungs.

He feeds her for the first few days, while she's lost, so lost she can't even remember the consent, the planning she did to prepare herself to have her heart tinkered with and opened, swirling and swirling and swirling in the saline as her essence was fused ever so gently with what little they had, drops of frozen protein, genomes buried in the dust.

And she was their reincarnation.

And yet she felt so wrong.

He's glad her mind doesn't wander to the point where she can't recognize the motions he's making and miming them back to him; he doesn't want to pry her lips open to force her to feed, and even though she's underweight, he won't let them do anything to her citing no evidence of his own.

**(January)**

January is different, January is the soft hues of light blue and pale yellow reminding the earth just how strongly pastel the world looked in this strange twilight phase between spring and winter.

January is when she can look at him for who he is, not what body he inhabits.

She's not as heavy when he holds her anymore.

She's smiles; he smiles.

They're happy. Sort of.

It's enough for now.

**(February)**

“How do you feel,” Popola asks, jabbing him unconsciously with her pen. “Are you in pain?”

“ _Ow_ ,” when she looks down, fearing that this will be the time she breaks him, he rolls his eyes and points to the pen.

“It hurts.”

Popola holds the pen in her hand, staring at it in awe. Of course, such an insignificant tag doesn't affect an android but for some reason, things make him itch and wince and just touch his freaking face all the time now a—

She can't help herself now, she's freely prodding him with the pen in all the fleshy bits he now has, and he sort of lets her satisfy her curiosity while he flexes his wrists. “Huh,” he hums as he begins a new stretch. It's now no longer painful to perform these tasks, instead actually kind of relaxing and rejuvenating to feel his muscles and tendons pull under his skin. It helps him synergize with this body the same way a self-hack worked on an android.

She weighs and measures him, jotting down her notes as she compared his body size to the original numbers. “You're...lighter. But your body size is about normal.” Popola noted. “It's the same with 2B too. Your proportions changed. But you look _okay_.”

It clearly wasn't her idea to let them return to reality from this dreamless haze space of washed out pastels and snowy skies, but she wasn't calling those shots.

“Don't worry, Popola,” he said cheerily to relax the tension in her shoulders, which were set in a hard line. “You can always fix me up, huh?” He smiled with a brazenness he didn't really feel at the moment but he flashed her a thumb up.

Her jaw visibly twitched and her eyes glazed over but she quickly schooled her expression. “Yeah…”

The forced levity between them dried quickly and left gaps of conversation where words should be.

**(February)**

She's waiting for him when he emerges from his cocoon, buried in layers that seem impractical and are impractical just like he is, but they beat freezing to death —because that can happen now. But she's watching the spring struggle to exist as winter crushed it breezily. Much like back in 9S’ recent relocation, flowers attempt to grow here, scattered across the ground that he tries not to step on while he maneuvers in his slipshod winter gear.

They're the small things, and hell knows more than ever, they have to protect them.

•••

It's all about to end soon anyways...


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein which the author updates twice.

**_ ({Ad Hominem})  
Chapter two _ **   
_Break_

* * *

 

  
He spins the tea in his cracked mug, discoloration already set on the chipped porcelain, his hand slightly quivering until he sighs to break the tension and gently sets it down. The twins gave him tea, he recalls, supposedly to calm his nerves.

_She was warmer than she's ever been, but they say this is all normal, all a part of the process. She was new, a whole different person to love. Yet, it was still her; the same swell of her hips, the same soft skin, the same beauty tick right on her chin, the same eyes..._

He's exhausted from his earlier expenditure still, his new body needing rest as the weight hit him right behind the knees. He needs to sit, properly, but he can't help the slumped posture he has now as his eyes stare in all their blank wisdom into the fire.

_They're pressed so close together, skin touching skin, their breath mixing together into a warm cloud of shared oxygen. He groaned, loudly and it trailed off to a shiver that's quickly swallowed up by her own gasps._

He clenches his fist and promptly throws his mug across the room.

_Her body clutched him for life, crying out when he touched these new, human parts of her. This experience is stealing his breath away and thus must be ten times for her, just because she's the one holding back screams, her moans strained to the limit._

He leaves their room and promptly vomits, the smell of blood and the sight of her body, her throat slashed from a frenzied swipe of her own sword from his hands burned into his mind. He feels the urge to scream his throat raw bubbling up within him, hot tears already creeping down his cheeks. 9S wails, saline mixing with iron as his body heaves. His voice tears because he knows that this is what he's done.

_“P-p-ple-ase,” she mumbles incoherently against his ear. “I-I c-ca…” Her voice drags out the last syllable and she suddenly freezes, sound dying in her throat._

Has he finally fulfilled his twisted desire? The ones that he wishes died in the Tower when he mutilated so many of her copies, unable to control his anger and confusion. He tore them apart, broke them in all manner of ways but still...god...god, he loved her. She still was the only person he loved in such a way that makes his chest hurt.

_He’s being crushed between her thighs as she spasms, her inner muscles within her abdomen working in ways he never imagined. He himself has lost all rational thought but he knows he has to hold her, to feel her close, to smell her, to..._

Was he happy then, inside, that he finally, finally, finally killed her? His 2B lay there dead, her eyes unfocused and dull as she stared at the ceiling, whatever life they once held gone.

_“I love you.” He smiles when he hears it. He knows it, but to hear it from her lips…_

Even inside, this doesn't fill any void. All it does it make it larger, a deeper pit, a bigger cross to die on.

_“9S, what are you—” she chokes as blood sprays their home, his skin, the pictures they've taken together and framed for their intimacy._

_“I love you too. I...I love you so much, 2B.”_


	4. Chapter 4

Ad Hominem  
~1~  
9S and 2B  
(Alternatively, Nines and Elizabeth)

* * *

 

9S can't look at her anymore, not after he's killed her over and over again in his dreams and fantasies, each method more lovingly deranged than the last. It always starts when he touches her, loves her and this is why he hasn't spoken of them to her or anyone. He...does things to her and she to him that could qualify as positive if he understood them beyond the fact that he likes them.

But they always twist into horror.

He's choked her. Stabbed her through the chest once. Attacked her, she fought back, until he dashed her head against the furniture. Stabbed her multiple times in the chest. Smothered her with the pillow…

And it never makes it go away.

He wants his mentality to understand that this never works. He is the one who spent days screaming into the void, tearing apart the one he loved for the sake of making it stop and it didn't work then.

It won't work now.

Why is it being drawn out of him now? Why is he suddenly relapsing into this? Why him?

Sexuality is something that doesn't exist with androids, at least not in any physical form. With emotions come urges they quite cannot express, being strongly limited by code and lack of equipment.

...he has a penis. He's trying to say he has a penis and he's rather embarrassed by it because he knows what it's for but he's never had one. Waking up to find it between his legs was...a shock that was the defining trait separating him from his once abundant masters: reproduction.

Those things he so closely associates with murdering his lover is in his sexuality towards her. Because she's female and he's male and they...they do...things like that.

(Not the murder, obviously.)

Androids do it differently though, interfacing minds to prod the other’s emotions until they feel euphoria and then relaxation, something that was included in their makeup out of practicality and not of concern of their feelings but was twisted over the years to forge intimacy. He's done this to 2B multiple times and on varying levels, going deep into her memory unit or just shallowly teasing her emotional centers.

Humans...humans use their bodies in close, incendiary sessions of raw physicality that look like they burn. 9S’s normal body temperature is in the 30s now, whereas before he was kept cool by internal systems.

And...he's scared of it.

It's attached to death, the death of his reason for living at his own hands, yet he still feels urges to experience it whenever she's around, lying next to him harmlessly in her own dreams at night.

He doesn't want it but he does all again.

So he stops looking at her, stops breathing in her smell, stops hearing her voice, stops touching her skin. The inevitable is attached to loving her in such a way and he…

...he just doesn't want her to die again.

She rolls over in her sleep, soft knees brushing against his own and he shuts his eyes.

He hates himself, but he leans a little closer, chasing what only she can provide in forms known and unknown.

2B herself knows why, Jackass won't shut the fuck up about how she wants data on the action, but she herself misunderstands. It's not guilt holding him back, it's fear.

She wants to help him, to coax his emotions out without breaking him down or forcing him to spew his intentions. So she runs him a bath.

Even if they've changed physically, for all intents and purposes, their psychology and personality have remained the same. Things they once enjoyed as androids, as long as they don't interfere with human function, are things they adore now as humans, bathing being one of them. 9S always enjoyed them more than normal, spending time alone in the warm water and soap even though those logistics had little value to an android.

She sits on the edge of the tub, her fingers grazing the stream of hot water as bubbles frothed in the basin from a previously poured mixture of lavender and camomile soaps, the scent wafting into the air. It's a soothing mixture she purchased from a traveling apothecary who touted its relaxing capabilities as part of her sales pitch. 2B had never seen much value in it, but 9S had bottles of the stuff in their home before they underwent the change, explaining the purchases as experimental and totally not self indulgent.

They sit untouched now, dust covering their shiny, elaborate glass bottles and fancy corks. This smell is something new, something he doesn't have in his abandoned collection, and she hopes he appreciates it.

He spends most of his time out of their house, even though he's not supposed to quite yet, most of the time watching the stream in the forest trickle by and loathing what's inside of him now. It's even like the animals can sense it, as they avoid him aside from a few immersion shattering cameos in the form of rabbits or deer.

He doesn't know how long he'll be sidelined from his work, but his work was November Gestalt and he is the sample. He can't be anywhere near the research and data that they've taken from him and 2B because he could very well contaminate any experiment they're holding.

Still? He's realizing how fulfilled he is by his work and how empty he is now that he cannot participate in it.

He's supposed to be home. With 2B. They're supposed to be engaging in former human rituals together and he's forcing her to go through this alone.

He's a selfish, inconsiderate bastard. There's no reason for him not to hate himself. It weighs so heavily on his heart and chest that he can't breathe. But it can't outweigh those dreams, that fear of getting so close that he can't help but snap, reaching over to—

When he thinks she might be sleeping, he slips into the house, ignoring the obvious dangers of sneaking around in the same proximity as a war veteran with an extreme dose of PTSD and emotional distress stemming from her sudden reincarnation as a human, i.e. the obvious likelihood of startling her into killing him by accident.

But he doesn't hear her and the lights are off, indicating that she's gone to sleep already…

And then he opens the bathroom door and is blasted by warm air, the heavy scent of flowers hanging in the steam and…

_Holy shit, she's not wearing any clothes._

Well, naturally, as she is naked.

2B looked up from the loosely curled ball she was inhabiting, fully nude and nearly submerged in the tub. Bubbles thankfully covered all the parts unknown but that wasn't the case for long as she stood up.

He can't advert his eyes or help the burn in his face that comes with it.

“Nines.” She smiles gently at him as if he's the most important person in the world and he hasn't been a dick to her this whole time. “I was wondering when you'd be back.”

“I...u...h...I thought that you were...sleeping.”

Oh, God, this is what he had wanted for so long but now that it's happening, he's being a complete coward. At least 2B can be forward with her needs and wants, whereas he has to White Knuckle, White Knight his way through sleeping in the same bed as her due to some fucked up fantasy.

She sucks on her bottom lip for a moment, hesitating.

“Do you want me to…?” 9S finally looks away, gesturing to the door.

“No.” She says it harshly and she must notice that her unconscious tone causes him to flinch because she softens it. “I mean...I want you to join me, 9S.”

Shit.

“I…”

What?

_‘I still think about killing you? I think so much about doing things to you that I hate? I'm in love with you so much that it hurts me physically?’_

They promised each other something all those months ago when they dressed in white. His finger is cut in by a slender band of silver, and she wears its mate on her own hand. And he's forgone that promise.

He's so tired of ignoring her and them, who they've become together, the people they've become in the centuries since the war. He just...wants to feel normal and here she is, offering normalcy and saying that it's okay to have it.

Her fingers, they're hot and smell of peaceful valleys he has yet to see, brush his cheek, her thumb catching his bottom lip. 2B pulls him closer, bending down to his height, lips agonizingly close to his as they part slightly.

...maybe it's fine...maybe it's okay to do this as long as he's aware of the signs of snapping. He just needs to keep his wits about him and—

2B’s undressing him, unclasping his shorts and jacket so they fall off his slender frame with relative ease, massaging his shoulders as he realizes just how tense they are. His body shakes under this pressure, stretched taut and ready to break if either of them made the wrong move.

Luckily, 2B more than knows how to handle him, leading him to the bath and pressing herself close to his back as they sank into the water. They had more buoyancy in these bodies, and it would be humorous to watch 2B struggle a bit with this had his mental state not been near the dumpster.

She curls her fingers on his back, sighing as she leaned into the contact and he didn't run away from intimacy as he did before. “9S...I've missed you…”

He chokes on the guilt.

“I'm sorry…”

“Don't apologize. You're here now.” She pressed her lips to the top of his spine. “I know it's been hard, Nines, but I'm here. You're here. We only have each other now.”

Her fingers leave his back, exploring the skin of his human body with light touch and delicate swirls of her fingertips. 9S twitched when she passed over his abdomen. His groin ached, and all he really wanted was her and...to be with her...if he just could ignore the obvious bubbling from underneath the surface.

“Nines.” She uses one hand to pull his face to meet hers and the other rests against his thigh, far too close to his new genitalia for comfort. “We both…” She sighed. “We promised each other that we would be together.”

“I know. I just —”

“Nines!” 2B finally drops all pretense. “...just stop…”

He shuts his mouth.

“...is it me? You don't love me anymore?”

“No! 2B, I love you, I swear.” He finally manages to take her hand. “2B...I really, really want this. I want you. I'm just…holy shit, I'm terrified. Things...things happened when we were…apart.”

9S stares at their fingers. “And now that we're together, I...there's just so much I don't know about myself, especially now, in this body. I'm tired of hurting you, but being apart hurts you more...shit, I can't do anything right.”

2B nodded, understanding. “You know, you aren't the only one who's done something unforgivable, Nines. You can say you forgive me all you want, but I'll never just accept that I killed you so many times, hurt you so many times.” When he opened his mouth to speak, she stopped him. “I'm not finished.”

Her eyes clouded over, shadows of memories weighing on her brow. “You may think that what you've done is worse, and I'm not going to try and equate it, but you never had to keep killing. You had a choice and whatever you chose, it will always be more forgivable in my eyes than what I've done.” Slowly, the clouds part and she can finally meet his gaze again.

“I don't want to lose you…” He can't recall if it was himself or 2B who made the desperate plea, because in the next instant, their lips are pressed together.

Kissing human 2B is drastically different than kissing android 2B. One of the main changes is the heat their bodies produce now. Her skin nearly seared his as they connected, first a light, gentle reunion and then the hard, passionate tryst of experienced lovers. The tip of his tongue darted from inside his mouth to hers, and she returned the favor in kind. They moved against each other, a bit too energetically, applying too much force than required to move their lighter mass. 2B’s back hit the curl of the tub with a slight ‘thud’ and soapy water splashed over the edge and onto the tiles.

Still, they were absorbed in each other, having been apart for so long and eager to explore their newfound sexuality with their partner.

9S vaguely understood that he was supposed to be touching her on various parts of her body, but the ‘where’ and ‘how’ escaped him. Besides, 2B seemed more than eager to skip the bullshit as she thrust her hips against his, sending them both into yet another heated frenzy. The smell in the air and the buoyancy provided by the water didn't help either as it just made it easier for their bodies to rub together.

“I…” 2B swallowed, her cheeks turning red. “9S, move your hips up a bit.”

“Er…? What?” He panted when she pulled away to spout this exposition.

“Jackass told me…” She laughed shakily. “I don't even know how she knows this, but…” Reaching down into the water, she raised herself up a bit and, with a slightly trembling hand, spread the mound between her thighs. Wet skin, it seemed to be wet of its own accord and not because of the bath, glistened in the bathroom lights and 9S took the new sight in as 2B turned a shade darker on her cheeks.

The skin was a light pink, folded elaborately as if to frame the small hole he could make out right at the base of this new organ. A bud of similarly colored flesh crowned it, looking a tad stiff and needy in his eyes.

In between his own legs, his length twitched with excitement.

Oh. So...that's how it worked.

“S–stop staring!” She chastised, her fingers digging into her hip. “It's supposed to be penetration, at least that's what she said.”

“So, uh…” He bit his lip. “I just…?” Lacking the verbosity in this moment, he held up his hands and made a motion, pointer outstretched and penetrating the space between his other hand, which had curled into an O.

“I imagine.”

Fucking how? The hole seemed nowhere near the same size or even close to his width yet they were supposedly still comparable?”

“It stretches,” 2B says abashedly, unable to meet his eyes when he gazes at her quizzingly. “I...I got lonely and…” Her fingers adjust themselves. “Not now okay?”

He nodded, parking that bit of information for interrogation later on. Gently, he placed his hands on either side of her hips, lowering her to meet his. Watching her had made him painfully erect, his body clearly needing release just as she did.

It was awkward, so very awkward, to try and find her entrance with a part of his body he was suddenly gifted with, and it took a minute of rubbing against her — 2B whimpering in his arms all the while — until he finally pressed against her warm, pulsating hole.

By primal instinct, his hips snapped forward, pushing them both against the porcelain edge and sending a wave of water up his back and out the other end of the tub. 2B’s head shot back, her mouth letting out a cry of his name and nails finding ease in his back.

She was even hotter inside, wet and smooth as her muscles drew him in and told him to stay. Obviously, they couldn't have the full body on body contact they craved due to the restraints of the tub, but they had enough for now. And this...this was leaps and bounds above amazing.

Slowly, as if testing if it was really true, he began to rock his hips into hers, groaning and panting his approval at his own action. 2B moaned out something indecipherable, rocking her body in time with his. He captured her lips again, this time with emotions that burned with love and adoration, and she responded in kind.

It was drastically different from his dreams. For one, he could never have imagined the heat and smooth friction inside her body provided, or that her voice could make him want to touch every inner sanctum he could find, or that her face could be filled with so much love that it made his chest swell.

“Ngh!” There was pressure as well. Pressure building up behind the backs of his eyes and in his abdomen. The effect was unknown, but it wasn't like he was going to stop just because it felt like his stomach was on fire. In and out, matching with her out and in, never felt so good.

Imitating this as an android left out so many key parts, but he would never be able to adequately describe what was missing. There simply are no words.

2B kissed his neck, her hands shaking and breath coming fast and loud. Inside, she was trembling, spasms coming erratically to steal his breath away.

He doesn't even have time to prepare for his first orgasm as it gladly tears its way out of him and into her. 9S opens his mouth to shout but silence and strained groans only follow.

Something hot, not warm but hot, spurts from his length, presumably leaving a mess inside his partner.

2B on the other hand, shudders, body spasming violently in his grip. The pulsing now becomes crushing force, trapping his erection inside to be smothered as he blessedly ejaculates.

And then it's quiet, save for their heavy breaths and the soft drip of water against the tiles.


	5. Elizabeth

Ad Hominem

~2~

2B

(Alternatively, Elizabeth)

* * *

 

She runs her fingers through his hair, twisting the strands lightly as the sunlight dances off of them while he sleeps against her chest. She's spent her morning smoothing his hair with her hands, awaiting his inevitable awakening. They're both exhausted from last night, and 2B felt a touch sore, but he seemed to still be grappling with the idea that this was okay. He had his hang ups and so did she, meaning she had no right to tell him to get over it.

She kissed his head and he slowly shifted.

“Ngh…” he muttered lightly in his sleep, eyes fluttering open for an instant before closing again. He must have been dreaming, but not the trauma inducing night terrors that haunted him these last few weeks as he didn't wake her up screaming.

It was a relief to hold him again, to feel his pulse and warm breath against her skin, having been deprived of him for so long. He was her comfort in a world battle-hardened and raw, his survival paramount to her own. Her fingers ghosted over his sleeping face, dancing across his slightly blurred features and she frowned.

This was a problem...she's noticed it ever since they awakened, but her vision isn't what it was before. Before, everything was beamed via short range radar into her visor faster than a human mind could process, resulting in superior “eyesight”. Even without that, as an android, she was made without optical flaws.

But...human eyes were weaker. And the fine details on 9S’ face faded into background chasms pocketing his otherwise smooth, delicate face. If she didn't know that their human masters made them with some sort of imperfection, for instance she had a beauty mark on her chin, then she would have easily considered him flawlessly beautiful.

…”human masters”...she stared at her hand, which was cupping 9S’ cheek. Her thumb brushed his lip, causing a warm puff of air to envelope her finger.

They were the humans now, something that wholly terrified her. She had never thought of her human creators as anything short of godlike, the thought embedded into her code. Yet, here she was, an impersonator, a copy. Not android but surely not human. It truly was how those machines had said it all those years ago.

“ _ Die and become as Gods.” _

She shuddered and buried her face in 9S’s hair, drowning out the chilling prophecy with the smell of lavender.

9S was her default. Whenever things went wrong, she knew she had him. She could lean on him, hold him close and he would listen, giving her what she needed based off of that.

At least, he had. Before the sudden change into the person who was afraid of their hands accidentally brushing together, not to speak of full intimacy. Last night had been a fluke, her new human need, persistence and offered comfort combined with his own desire for shelter had finally broke down the wall he had erected between them.

She held him closer, feeling tears prickle the corners of her faulty, human, eyes.

* * *

 

She’s sitting on the windowseat, hands curled around a steaming mug of tea as she watches the rain slowly make its way across the sky as it chokes the sunlight. Thunder reaches his ears from afar, booming in the distance.

He sits down at the table, set for two, and places his hands on his lap, looking everywhere but where she was. They sat in silence, aside from the sound of nature as it blew the curtains. Finally, she reached up and closed the window as drops began to hit her skin.

“U...um…” 9S coughed to clear his throat when his voice cracked into a high pitch. “Good morning, 2B.”

She smiled warmly, eyes soft and genuine. He shook at the sight, so different than the 2B he remembered.

“Good morning, 9S. Did you want any tea?” She asked, blowing on her own. “It's chilly outside.”

9S watched her with wide doe eyes, his frame trembling.

His voice shook as he nodded and said, “y-yeah... I-I do... I…” He inhaled sharply, fresh tears trailing down his cheeks. “I'm sorry...I'm sorry, 2B…”

His head snapped up as he heard the sound of breaking glass, but his vision was blurred by her neck and chest as she held him.

Shards of porcelain and puddles of light red tea stained the kitchen floor as he finally let go and allowed himself to sob into her skin, wailing nonsensical explanations for his behavior.

* * *

 

“So...what the hell happened to your skin?” Jackass asked, twirling her hair around a pen as she bored a hole into 2B’s nude body. “I'm pretty sure that humans don't naturally come with bruises. But I'm not the human here.”

2B turned a bit red as she thought back to the bath.

“It...it's personal.”

Jackass blinked. Or maybe she winked and 2B couldn't tell because of the eyepatch.

“You don't get 'personal’, 2B. You signed up for this process and I need all the data I can get.”

2B sighed. “9S and I...I don't know the word for it, but we were to...together last night.”

Jackass raised her eyebrows, tugging her pen out of her hair. 2B didn't know why she had that writing device considering that Jackass was probably recording the whole conversation. Her eyes roamed over the white haired woman's body as they talked, but her face showed no interest.

“Oh, that thing humans do when they get pregnant.”

2B’s eyes went wide in confusion, thinking back to her vague memories of the word. Isn't that how humans...er,  _ they _ created more humans? “Preg...pregnant?”

“I think so? I dunno, why the hell do you think I'm studying you?”

She tuned Jackass out as she thought more deeply about the concept. The thought of a smaller clone of 9S or herself. 9S had told him about 21O’s personal research into the concept of family. Humans had these units comprised of lovers and sometimes children, a product of a male and female.

She played with her hair a bit as Jackass began prodding 2B’s bruised skin while droning on about the science of the phenom.

A smaller, innocent version of herself or 9S…

That would be something...wouldn't it?


End file.
